In the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, Professor Lockhart, with a livid expression, leveled a trembling finger at the calm old wizard seated behind the grand desk.
"Respected Headmaster Dumbledore, I would like to know how Hogwarts handles students who allow magical creatures to attack their professors."
He struggled to maintain his composure, casting a venomous glance at the young man beside him.
At that moment, Kai Adler was lounging comfortably in one of the chairs before the desk, chewing a pastry from the silver tray. He frowned slightly, then picked up a cup beside him and took a sip, his expression deepening.
"Professor," he said blandly, "you might want to watch your sugar intake. Diabetes is a nasty thing."
The remark, casual and unapologetic, caused Lockhart's face to flush an even darker shade of green—a hue that clashed hideously with his flamboyant purple robes.
Dumbledore gave Kai a helpless glance before turning back to Lockhart with his usual patient composure.
"Professor Lockhart, I am already aware of the situation. I believe we will handle this matter with the appropriate care."
"But this student—"
"Professor Lockhart." Dumbledore's voice suddenly sharpened, cutting through the air like a wand slash. "I believe it would be best if you returned to your chambers and prepared for your next lesson."
Behind his half-moon spectacles, the old wizard's eyes gleamed with quiet authority. Lockhart, realizing he was facing not just the Headmaster of Hogwarts but the most powerful wizard alive, forced a stiff smile.
"Of course. I'll trust the school to handle this appropriately."
As soon as Lockhart had left, Kai stood and began rummaging through the shelves and side tables.
"The only appropriate way to handle him," he muttered, "is to throw him out on his pompous rear."
Dumbledore chuckled, picking up one of the pastries from the tray. The pleased hum he let out suggested it was to his liking.
"He can be sent packing, yes—but then we'll be short a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher again. Do you know how difficult they are to keep?"
Kai glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You're not seriously considering me, are you? I'm eleven."
"But you're already an exceptional wizard," Dumbledore said mildly.
"Furthermore…" He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Your demeanor is rather mature for an eleven-year-old."
"Is it a crime to be precocious?" Kai replied dryly. He found the tea set, brewed two cups of black tea using the leaves he carried with him, and returned to his seat.
He wasn't particularly worried about exposing his nature. In a world where magic existed, reincarnation didn't seem like such a leap.
Dumbledore didn't press him on it either.
He accepted the floating teacup, took a sip—and immediately reached for a spoonful of sugar.
"Too sweet is unhealthy," Kai chided.
Dumbledore hesitated, then lowered the spoon and sighed, taking another sip of the unsweetened tea. His expression suggested he felt deeply wronged.
"English black tea is already sweetened enough. If I gave you German herbal blends, you'd probably spit it out."
"I've had them, actually," Dumbledore said with an exaggerated grimace. "I once exchanged knowledge with wizards from the Germanic traditions. Their teas are… challenging."
Kai looked up with a flicker of interest. "There are wizards in Germany?"
"Certainly. But they do not always call themselves 'wizards.' In the ancient Germanic magical tradition, they often identify as 'Hexenmeisters' or simply 'Arkanisten'."
Dumbledore enunciated the German word with surprising accuracy, and Kai's mind briefly conjured the image of an old Teutonic mage in dark robes, with a staff etched with runes.
"They also view Muggles differently than we do. In many parts of the old Holy Roman territories, magical knowledge was once open to the public. Families passed it down alongside mundane skills, and magical guilds existed alongside smiths and apothecaries."
"Open-source magic," Kai murmured, intrigued.
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "They believed everyone had latent 'innere Kraft'—an inner force. Anyone could attempt to learn, though success varied."
"A philosophy rooted in wisdom," Kai said softly, eyes distant.
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened slightly. "How so?"
Kai set his teacup down and folded his arms. "If you classify yourself as part of the majority rather than an elite, resentment rarely builds. When magic is something anyone might one day wield—be it your brother, sister, or neighbor—there's no faceless 'other' to hate. Jealousy, sure, but it's focused, personal. Not systemic."
"In contrast," he added, voice edged with irony, "this magical world insists on dividing wizards and Muggles like two different species."
"Humans are naturally jealous. If wizards exclude themselves, Muggles will label them as threats. That's the root of the tension."
Dumbledore was quiet for a long moment, watching him.
"And how do you think that tension could be resolved?"
"One way," Kai said, lifting his teacup, "is to do as those ancient Germanic mages did—establish magical schools open to all. Let every child try, let nature sort the capable from the incapable."
"But…" he took a sip and shrugged. "That's a dream. Idealistic. Impossible here and now."
Dumbledore sighed, the weight of old knowledge in his eyes. They both knew why.
Too many families—like the Malfoys—would never allow it. Thirty percent of the magical population harbored some form of anti-Muggle sentiment, and many of the rest kept their heads down. Flooding society with Muggle-born students would ignite backlash. Riots. Perhaps even war.
And in a war, wizards might not win.
There were fewer than 3,000 witches and wizards in all of Britain. Even across Europe, the number barely hit the tens of thousands. Against millions of technologically advanced Muggles, the odds were laughable.
"Of course, there's another method," Kai added, tone casual—too casual.
"Since wizards operate in the shadows, they could quietly take over. Use the Imperius Curse to control Muggle leadership, infiltrate governments. Slowly replace influence with domination. By the time the Muggles notice, it's already too late."
Dumbledore's face went still. That idea was uncomfortably familiar.
"Did Gellert teach you that?"
"Sort of," Kai replied lazily. "He once told me about a 'friend' who gave him a creed—his life's guiding words."
He looked at Dumbledore, eyes gleaming with wry amusement.
"'For the Greater Good.'"
Dumbledore felt something cold bloom in his chest. He remembered that phrase all too well. In youth, he and Grindelwald had believed themselves saviors of both worlds. He had wanted unity. Gellert wanted rule. But both of them had thought only power could enforce peace.
Until that summer. Until that duel. Until Ariana.
"And now?" he asked hoarsely. "Is that what you believe?"
Kai smiled faintly. "Actually, Gellert told me one more thing."
"What was it?"
Kai raised his cup with a wry tilt. "Everything I just said was nonsense."
Dumbledore blinked.
"He told me that no one, no matter how wise or powerful, has the right to shape another's fate. That killing and coercion are the laziest answers to the hardest questions."
"Because even someone like him—someone revered and feared—was eventually defeated."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, the tension slowly bleeding from his frame.
"And you agree?"
"Of course." Kai shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I have answers either. I'm just an eleven-year-old second-year student. What do I care about the future of wizarding and Muggle relations?"
He stretched out luxuriously.
"I just want to enjoy school life, maybe have a sweet little romance if the stars align."
Dumbledore chuckled softly and did not press further. Perhaps it was a conversation for another time.
"Professor," Kai said, eyeing him with mild suspicion. "You didn't drag me here just to philosophize about international magical ethics, did you? You're not seriously thinking of punishing me for humiliating that peacock in robes, right?"
"Certainly not," Dumbledore replied as he rose. "Come, I want to show you something."